


He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother.

by JamieB93



Series: Blood Feud [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Awesome May Parker (Spider-Man), Child Abuse, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Death of a Parent, Eating Disorders, F/M, Feelings lots of feelings, Harley Keener & Peter Parker Friendship, Harley Keener & Peter Parker are Siblings, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Harley Keener is a Good Bro, Harley Keener is a mess, Harry Osborn Needs a Hug, Harry Osborn is a mess, Insane Norman Osborn, Kid Harley Keener, Kid Harry Osborn, Kid Peter Parker, Norman Osborn Being a Jerk, Norman Osborn's A+ parenting, Oops, Parental Death, Peter Parker Angst, Peter Parker Feels, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Harley Keener, Protective Harry Osborn, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Protective Peter Parker, Sexual Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Supportive May Parker (Spider-Man), and how it affects her kids, but she dead, mary parker is their mom, norman is their dad, peter harley and harry are siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25004698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieB93/pseuds/JamieB93
Summary: Following the death of their mother Peter, Harry and Harley all navigate their feelings of grief and learn to find unity and support in one another. One of them, however, has taken the burden of shielding his grief for the sake of his brothers. Can someone get through to Peter before it's too late?[Part 9 of a planned series called Blood Feud]
Relationships: Harley Keener & Harry Osborn, Harley Keener & Harry Osborn & Peter Parker, Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harry Osborn & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Norman Osborn/Mary Parker
Series: Blood Feud [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709539
Comments: 29
Kudos: 109





	He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother.

**Author's Note:**

> HEYYY so, I'm not like 1000% a fan of this chapter. Like, I like it and there's a lot of good in it - some of my favourite scenes so far in fact - but the reason it's taken me so long to get up is because I had half of it written and then scrapped it. This was originally very Ben and Richard heavy and whilst that was all great, I kept only alluding to the boys and their grief and it hit me that I was kind of doing my boys a disservice by glossing over the effect losing their mother would have on them. So, I scrapped that chapter and instead wrote a quieter, more low-key and shorter chapter that delves into the boys grief. It's good, I promise, I'm just a little frustrated with it.
> 
> ANYWAY,  
> hope you enjoy! Mwah!

**Blood Feud:** The Gathering Storm

Part Nine: He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother.

_Sunday, May 31 st, 2009, Osborne Manor, Long Island, New York._

Norman was on the phone when she entered his study because of course he was. He was always on the phone. Giving orders, barking instructions at people, swiftly following them up with insults if his desires were not immediately tended. Sometimes it’d be him groveling and bending over backwards if it was a senator or someone from the campaign trail. Mary sighed and shut the door to the study behind her, slumping back against it once closed and she watched her husband conduct his business and started to wonder to herself how she ever managed to wind up in a situation like this.

Growing up and being raised by a single Mom, Mary had always looked forward to the idea of marriage, a man to love and cherish her just as she was. May had poked a hole through that for a few years during college but deep down, Mary knew she was still that girl who had just wanted a strong man to take care of her and her babies. So quite how she’d ended up being married to a man who seemed to place such things lower down on his priority list than catching adult chicken pox was beyond her.

It wasn’t even as if she could justify it by saying that Norman Osborne had simply been too passionate or loving or handsome to resist. She kind of fell into his relationship. The first time he’d kissed her, she kissed him back because she thought ‘why not?’. It was the same for the first date, for all of their subsequent ones, the first time they’d had sex and pretty much every time after that. Just going through the motions, always expecting Norman to end things for the sake of his own ego, but it never happened.

Then, they were engaged. And she spoke a good game about loving him because good girls say, ‘I love you’ and Mary Holland had always been the consummate good girl. Then, they were married and she convinced herself she was happy and that it was for the best. Norman might never have treated her all that nicely or stuck up for her whenever his awful mother tried to stick the knife in, but they were comfortable. It was easy to feel she was being looked after when she had a walk-in wardrobe full of the latest fashions, her own Sports car and three beautiful sons on whom she doted and would have done anything for.

The pretense was fine until it wasn’t.

“Problem, dear?” Norman asked impatiently once he had put the phone down and spotted her on the other side of the room, “Only I am quite busy.”

“I know about Peter” she said bluntly. For she was empty now, so empty. She felt nothing but contempt for the man sitting in front of her.

“What about him?” came the reply

“Richard came around earlier” Mary said icily. She crossed the room and took a seat on the other side of Norman’s desk, “Filled me in on one or two things that he couldn’t keep to himself any longer. Things that were tearing him apart, from what I could see.”

“And what would those be?” Norman asked.

“You know” she accused, “You know full well what I’m talking about. Of all the terrible things you’ve done over the years, this really is a new low for you, isn’t it?”

“You’re becoming hysterical” he said in reply

“I haven’t even started yet” Mary snapped, “You let….that monster….do that to _our_ son just so you could cover your own back? Why?”

Norman sighed and took a deep breath.

“What exactly has Parker told you?” he asked.

“Everything I needed to know” Mary replied, wiping tears away from her eyes, “Everything I should have known the second you found out what your _best friend_ was really like.”

“So, he told you about Steven and the-“

“Yes, he told me your best friend, our children’s godfather was a pedophile and you chose to keep it from me!” Mary shouted, “Let our children mourn him when he died, let me plan his funeral, let me mourn him! When all the time you knew not only was he a fucking rapist but that he’d done it to one of _our_ babies! And not only that, but you let him. Handed him Peter on a plate like he was some kind of animal”

Norman looked confused. He stood up, poured himself a glass of whiskey and downed it one before pouring another.

“And how does he know that?” he asked, “Because Richard Parker-“

“ _Ben_ told me the rest” Mary snarled, “Richard only knew half the story but Ben, oh Ben, he knew the rest. Told me _everything_ , including what he did about it.”

Norman didn’t look too happy about it, worse than he’d looked when he realized Mary now knew he’d kept their son’s sexual abuse from her. Mary almost laughed. Of course, Norman would be more upset about a confidence being betrayed than he would about his own son being raped. That was a means to an end, but Ben telling her about it was something akin to treason in Norman’s eyes.

“And how do you feel about that?” he asked, “Suppose you think that makes Ben Parker more of a man than me?”

She did laugh that time.

“Have you heard yourself?” she snapped, “Our son, _your_ son, has been raped by your only friend, someone who was practically your brother, and all you can do is ask whether I think the person who killed him is more of a man than you? What the fuck is wrong with you? Our baby is in pain Norman, do you feel nothing for him? Do you even care? How could you just stand back and let him do that?! How do you live with yourself knowing you’re responsible for that much pain-“

“Peter is-“

“Don’t you dare fucking tell me Peter is fine, he is not fine” Mary screamed, “He has been falling apart for months and I’ve not been able to help in the way I should have because of you and-“

“Oh don’t make me laugh” Norman spat, turning around, and closing in on her a little, “As if you wouldn’t have just passed the buck to May or Ben like you’ve been doing for the last six years. You don’t care about those boys; they are nothing but accessories to you. You’ve been so caught up in your own little life that-“

He was shut up by a harsh slap to the face as Mary’s anger got the better of her. Her wedding ring had sliced into Norman’s cheek and drawn blood. He wiped it away before inspecting the blood himself.

“There’s some irony in this, don’t you think” he snarled, “You slicing into me with the ring that symbolizes your love and commit to me and only me. Guess it’s endemic of what you really think of our marriage vows, what you think of me-“

“What’re you-?”

“There’s nothing that goes on around here that I don’t know about, my dear” Norman said coolly before pouring himself another glass of scotch and downing it in one, “Nothing at all, you’ve been so focused on your pathetic little teenage love affair with Richard Parker to pay any real attention to our son’s for months.”

Mary stopped cold in her tracks, a shiver running down her spine. Norman knew. Of course he knew, she’d been an idiot to ever think that he wouldn’t have figured it out at some point. Him knowing wasn’t what was dangerous here, it was the fact he knew and had never said anything. Mary had always imagined a big confrontation. That Norman’s calculated side would have lost resolutely to the side of them that was so arrogant and narcissistic that he would not be able to stand knowing his wife had been in bed with another man. No, the fact Norman knew and had remained quiet was ten times worse. It meant he had been plotting.

“How did you-“

“Ah good, you’re at least sparing us both the humiliation of you trying to deny or talk your way out of it” Norman chuckled as he poured and downed another glass in one continuous motion, “If only you’d been so bold with your feelings eighteen months ago, might have saved a lot of people a lot of hurt.”

“When did you find out?” she asked, gulping.

“Before it even started” Norman snarled, “I know you think of me as some cold, unfeeling robot Mary but I can recognize pining and sexual tension when I see it. Especially when it’s as transparent as it was between you and Parker.”

“Why did you never say anything?” she asked.

“Because I honestly can’t say that I was too bothered by it” he said with a shrug, “I always knew there was a risk when I hired Parker and in a way I felt almost vindicated. Proved to me that I was wrong to have as much faith in you as I used to. I could feel you turning away from me, from us, from this marriage, from this family and I knew if I confronted you that you’d walk away. Take the kids. Tear apart the family, and I can’t have this family torn apart Mary, it’s too important.”

Mary laughed bitterly

“The politics” she snarled, “You want us together because it’s easier for you to get what you want if you’ve got the perfect little wife, the perfect beautiful sons and your perfect new baby daughter. The thing you always wanted more than anything. A little girl of your own.”

“Girls are much-“

“Oh yes, I know, we’ve had this conversation a thousand times” Mary snapped, thinking back over the last fifteen years of her life and hearing Norman drone on and on about how he didn’t want boys and he didn’t like boys because they were uncouth and chaotic and would only end up embarrassing him publicly with such behaviour. Mary knew that Norman did not want a girl because he respected women or believed they were of value, but because he knew that a girl would be easier to mold into his perfect little doll because girls had more pressure on them to be quiet and respectful and polite. Mary hadn’t given Norman his perfect little doll and had been paying the price for nearly twenty years.

It was especially annoying seen as though the three boys that Mary had given Norman were three of the most polite, kind and just plain likeable kids that had ever existed. But they weren’t girls and they were all things little boys could be and now Norman was crushing their souls in order to get them to play ball, and she had let him. Because she was weak. She’d made one brave decision her entire marriage but that decision had probably lead to her sons being messed up in the worst way by their own father.

“You did in the end” Norman sighed, “You gave me what I wanted in the end. Why else do you think I kept you around?”

“Abigail” Mary sighed, “I figured as much the second we found out we were having a girl…does it not bother you? That there’s a chance she might not even be yours.”

“She’s mine” Norman said with a terrifying assurance, “I would know if she weren’t, but even you can’t deny she has my mother’s eyes. Hopefully, that isn’t where the similarities end.”

“How can you be sure though?” Mary asked taking a step closer to Norman, “You don’t know for sure, you can’t, there must be some seed of doubt in your mind that she might not be yours”

“I know” he snarled, getting closer to her face, “I know she’s mine.”

“How?” Mary smirked.

“Because like I said, there’s nothing that goes on in these four walls that I don’t know about. Not one thing gets past me. Ever” he replied. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed it, causing her to yank them away, laugh and turn away from him.

He was still the same clueless, hubris-ridden moron she’d met when they were both 19. So obsessed with his own ego and own self-importance to see what was clearly in front of him, deluding himself that he was the greatest mind in the Universe and that there was nothing that got past him. That nothing or no one could ever deceive him or dent his ego because Norman Osborne was just so fucking wonderful.

But he was wrong.

And Mary knew just how to prove it.

“Is that true?” she snarled back, “Nothing ever gets past you? There’s nothing that you don’t know about, do not make me laugh”

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

Mary laughed bitterly. What she was about to say brought her no joy, she was deeply ashamed of it in fact, but _fuck_ she just wanted to hurt him in that second. After all he’d done, after standing back and letting the worst thing imaginable happen to Peter without a second thought, she just wanted to make him hurt and she knew that this would hit him right in the guts and leave him wretched.

“Why are we still together, Norman, really?” she asked, “Yeah, I know it’s so we can keep up the illusion of the perfect all-American family but plenty of politicians are on their second or third wives and no one cares. No one cares about them having affairs or secret children or being any of that. You could have gotten rid of me, couldn’t you? Found some bimbo airhead who’d be happy with the role of a trophy wife-“

“I already had one” he snapped, “We’ve been over this.”

“No, we’ve been over your version of events” Mary replied hotly, “We’ve been over what you wanted, how you felt, we’ve never discussed how I saw things. What things have been like for me for the past fifteen years. Poor little Norman. Three sons he didn’t love, just wanting a pliant little daughter, and then his stupid little wife goes and miscarries one. That’s the reason you’re still with me. Guilt. We both know it. The only time I’ve ever seen you show any genuine feelings is when you found out I’d lost her.”

“You had a miscarriage, I-“

Mary snorted bitterly. It shocked even her.

“Oh, I didn’t have a miscarriage you self-absorbed snake” she said smugly.

“What do you mean?” he asked, “You fell down the stairs and-“

“I fell down the stairs two weeks after booking myself into a private clinic for a termination” she revealed with malevolence and stood back with something close to a smile on her face as Norman Osborne went sheet white and looked horrified. He hadn’t known. He hadn’t had a God damn clue. Nine years and he hadn’t been able to work this one thing out, “I threw myself down them so that everyone would believe that’s why there was no baby on the way anymore. I killed _our_ daughter, Norman. I killed _your_ daughter.”

It was only then as she was panting and looking as the anger built in her deranged husband that Mary realized she may have just made the worst mistake of her life. For there was no going back now, not from this, and Norman was looking positively murderous. Still, she kept her resolve and awaited the consequences.

“Do-who knows about this?” he asked first.

“No one” she sighed, “I know the way I told you might not suggest so but this is not actually something I’m proud of. If I could have avoided it I would have done but I felt trapped. I had no choice.”

“Of course you had a _choice_ ” he bellowed.

“No I didn’t” she said calmly, “It was eating away at me. The guilt. Seeing how you treated the boys, knowing why you wanted a girl, what you’d done to the Maximoff’s, I just couldn’t breathe and I knew I could never bring another one of _your_ children into this world.”

Norman downed another glass of scotch before immediately pouring another and downing that as well. Mary winced.

“You didn’t even tell May?” he asked.

“No” Mary confirmed, “I trust her more than anyone but I didn’t know anyone to know this other than me. And it worked. I don’t regret it but I also can’t really live with it either.”

“And that’s why Abigail is here?” he demanded, “Guilt.”

“Partly” she sighed, “To be honest, when I found out I was pregnant, I was more than willing to go through it all again but then I realized I couldn’t.”

“Because it’s wrong-“

“No” Mary said truthfully, shaking her head and crying a little, “No, because I knew there was a chance she might not be yours, that she might be Richard’s and I couldn’t justify that.”

Mary honestly didn’t know if her husband had feelings, he was so cold and unfeeling most of the time, but she couldn’t miss the flash of hurt and genuine heartbreak that briefly glossed over his eyes as her words hit him. It was fleeting but real and Norman’s eyes soon became as dead as they had been for as long as she could remember again. For a second, she was worried Norman might hit her, but physical violence had never been his style. At least not against her. Poor Harry. She really was the world’s worst mother.

“Why him?” Norman asked, “What makes Richard Parker so damn special? He’s always been borderline white trash scum. A no mark little upstart who acts like he belongs. I thought you were smarter than this.”

“Do you really want to get into this?” Mary asked, “Because it sounds like you already know, you must have thought about why me and Richard found one another again. Has it never occurred to you to ask why? Whether it was something you did, that it might not have had anything to do with Rich at all?”

“If it had been anyone else, maybe” Norman snarled, “Anyone else but him. You and him, this has been going on for twenty years, he’s obsessed by you, he turned up the night before our wedding and tried to talk you out of marrying me.”

 _I wish he’d managed it_ hung on Mary’s tongue. She didn’t need to say it, they both knew.

“I loved you at the time” she said softly instead, “I turned him down at the time.”

“For me? Or because, like always, you were scared” he spat back, “I mean, how do I know that you and Parker haven’t been at it the whole marriage? You were pregnant when we got married, how do I know that Harold is even mine?”

“He is, poor kid” she shot back, “All three of them are yours. Richard Parker and I never had sex until a year ago. Those children, those precious boys, are yours Norman and you could have been the best Dad in the world to them if you’d wanted but instead you chose to use them as pawns in your stupid games and battering rams to make yourself feel better. I wish to God Richard Parker _was_ their father.”

“Why? Because he’s so honest, I bet-“

“Yes. And loyal. And kind. And he has a lot more to offer than you do, even if he isn’t filthy rich” Mary shouted, “I’ve been a complete idiot, if only I’d-“

“Loyal, honest, Richard Parker” Norman sighed, “Good, kind and loyal. Appeals to your vanity, humiliated himself on the off chance you’d give him some attention, came, and worked for me solely so he could get close to you again….yeah, no agenda there. No underhanded motivations, no manipulative tactics, all above board.”

“You’re the one who offered him the job” Mary replied icily, “We hadn’t spoken for eight years when you did that.”

“And you’d thought about him the entire time” Norman roared before hastily rushing across the room to Mary and pinning her against the wall by the throat. She wanted to scream for help but he’d winded her in the process and she couldn’t do anything but weakly gasp as her husband’s face came dangerously close to her own, “Every time we fucked I knew you were thinking of him, every birthday, every Christmas, every Valentine’s Day I knew all you were thinking about was how life could have been if you and that no good, worthless working class trog….I know _you_ , Mary. You panic and you make choices you regret. You were stuck so you married me. You knew I needed you, and you were happy to go along with it….you’re the most expensive _whore_ any man has ever had to entertain….”

She kneed him in the balls for that one. Norman chuckled as he fell back a little, his hand finally slipping from Mary’s throat and allowing her to breathe once again.

“I hate you” she screamed.

“And I hate you right back” he roared, getting in her face again, “I hate every bone in your worthless body. Some women just have slut written in their hearts and you are one of them, Mary, I despise the very site of you. Go to Parker if you want. I want you out. I don’t want you or your _brats_ in my house for any longer-“

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“You heard” he snarled, “You can have your sunset ending with Parker, I’ll let you go, but before I do…before I do, you need to ask Richard Parker some questions. Questions about Peter. Questions about his condition. Because if you think Richard Parker is an honorable man who has told you the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth then you are sadly mistaken. Ask him. Tell him what you told me. That he’s kind and honest and would never betray you and then ask him what he’s been doing to your son for the last five years. Ask him why Peter suddenly developed seizures. Ask him why they seem to happen the same exact week every month, and only that week. Just…ask him.”

“What have you done?” Mary asked tearfully, “What have you done to Peter? What have you done, why do you keep hurting my baby?!”

“That’s for him to tell you” Norman said with a shrug, “You already know I’m a monster, Mary, I think it’s time you find out what it’s like to have someone you love betray you. Ask Richard Parker about Peter’s seizures. If he’s as noble as you claim, if he loves you as you claim, he’ll tell you the truth. And then you decide whether you can live with that but either way I want you and those brats of yours gone….because you’re right. I can re-build. I can re-brand. I can tell he whole world what a lying whore you are and come out with the public on my side. Hell, maybe you’ve done me the biggest favor you could have.”

“What have you been doing to Peter?” she asked again darkly

“Ask Richard Parker” Norman said slowly, drawing out every syllable, “Go and ask him and then make whatever choice you want regarding him. But you come back here, you pack your shit up, you take those three little brats with you and you go-“

“Three? But Abigail-“ Mary began.

“She stays” Norman smirked, “That’s my offer, Mary. You take a daughter from me; I take a daughter from you. I could kill you for what you did to our child. Murdering it. But I won’t because if you’re dead then sole custody of those wastes of oxygen upstairs falls to me and I am not shouldering that burden.”

Mary didn’t know why she felt so surprised or stung by her husband’s words. It wasn’t as if he ever gave much of an outward impression that he even liked their sons but she’d always assumed deep down he must have held some degree of paternal affection for him, but to hear him speak about them with such venom made her almost grateful. He was giving her a clean break here, a chance to raise her kids without his toxic influence, and there was a chance she could do it with Richard. Which meant Ben and May could still be part of the boys lives and carry on helping them.

Just two obstacles.

Abigail and whatever secret Norman was desperately trying to suggest that Richard was keeping from her regarding Peter’s health. She almost wanted to not even see Richard tonight and just pretend like she was alright with whatever he could supposedly tell her before taking the kids and leaving. There was no way she was leaving Abigail behind.

“That’s my offer, Mary” he snarled, “You get your boys, you get your happy ending with Parker, you get to take your unpaid babysitters with you and you get to forget that I ever existed. All I ask is that you leave Abigail behind. Leave me with _something_.”

“You know I can’t do that” she croaked, “She’s my baby, I love her.”

“Just as you loved the daughter you killed?” Norman spat, “You were a fool for letting me know that you know that don’t you? Did you think I’d really let you out of my life without making you pay in someway for murdering my daughter? Like I said, it’s a fair trade. You take from me; I take from you. Abigail stays with me and you get what you wanted, as long as you can live with what Richard Parker has been doing to Peter for the last five years. Your choice.”

*

_Tuesday 2 nd June 2009, Osborne Manor, Long Island, New York._

Harry was numb. He was totally numb. He knew three things at the present moment; that it was night, he was laying on his bed in his bedroom at the manor and the police were downstairs because his Mom had been fucking _murdered_. He didn’t know how long he’d been laying down or who was in the room or who had come in the room and left or who hadn’t come at all. All he could see when he closes his eyes was his mother’s pained, blue dead face etched in an expression of horror, looking directly at whoever had fired three bullets into her head at close range. All he could see when he opened his eyes was the pain and despair of those around him.

He’d yelled at Harley; he knew that much. He had some memory of shouting at his little brother who had been waiting on the stairs for their Mom to come and take him shopping and Harry had shouted at him for it because he was the biggest jerk on the planet and the worst big brother in the world. He supposed he should really go and find Harley and make sure he was OK but every time Harry tried to move a muscle it physically _hurt_ and the safety and comfort of his bed was something he didn’t want to leave. He guessed his Mom must have washed the sheets recently because they smelled a little like her perfume. Or maybe he was kidding himself. He didn’t know anymore.

The next time he felt something was when a cold, small hand wrapped around his abdomen and a bony chin rest on his shoulder. He couldn’t help but smile just a little bit. Peter was here, and he could never be totally unhappy when he was around Peter.

“Wanted to see how you are” Peter muttered.

“Bad” Harry confessed, “Like really, really bad. Not good.”

“Yeah” Peter said sadly.

“What about you?” Harry asked

“Doesn’t matter” Peter whispered.

Harry cringed. Peter _always_ did this, he always refused to say if he was upset even when he clearly was, and normally Harry had the energy to get him to open up, but he just didn’t have it today. Instead, he just groaned and turned to face Peter, who smiled a fake little smile that didn’t fool Harry for one second but yet still made him feel at ease because his little brother’s smile was just that gorgeous. Their hands threaded together and Harry figured that if he couldn’t get Peter to say out loud how he was feeling, the least he owed his little brother was to let him know how loved he was.

“I love you” Harry said bluntly.

“Harry, don’t-“

“I love you, Peter” Harry said quickly, “You’re my favourite person. I literally don’t know what I’d do without you and I need to let you know because I know you’re sad and you’ll never say so you need to know….need to know that you’re loved. By me. I love you and I would do _anything_ for you.”

Peter frowned a little. He was never very good at getting compliments.

“Harry, I-I love you too” he whispered back, squeezing Harry’s hand in his own and as always Harry was taken aback by how strong his skinny baby brother’s grip was, but he needed to feel something and Peter squeezing his hand was as good as he could ask for. “I’m so sorry this is happening.”

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Harry asked quietly, “I don’t wanna be alone.”

“Yeah, I-I don’t r-really wanna be alone e-either” Peter confessed and Harry felt so proud of his little brother that he reached across and kissed him on the forehead, “You-you c-calmed down good, Harry. Calmed down real good.”

“You’re cold” Harry noted as he felt Peter’s hands in his and started rubbing them to warm his little brother up, “Why are you so cold, Petey?”

“Went outside, needed air” Peter shrugged, “It’s not too bad.”

“You need to be warm” Harry said quickly, he sat up and searched around his room for something to warm Peter up with. He was relieved when he saw a hoodie hanging over the back of a chair. Harry raced over and brought it back with him in less than five seconds and started scrambling to get it over Peter’s head. He needed to be warm. Peter needed to be warm, because if Peter wasn’t warm then-then….

_Mom wasn’t warm. She was cold. She was so cold. So cold. Peter can’t be cold._

“Harry, I’m-“

“You need to be warm” Harry said desperately and to his relief Peter stopped struggling and allowed Harry to fit the hoodie around him. It was a bit too big for Peter but Harry felt that was a good thing because it meant Peter would be warmer, he didn’t want any of his siblings to be cold ever again. Peter hummed happily as Harry put the hood over his head and tucked them both under the covers.

“Thanks, ‘s actually better” Peter sighed.

“Big brother knows best” Harry replied sadly as he played with the tassels of the hoodie before noticing a bruise on Peter’s wrist, “When did that happen?”

“Oh, think it was my last seizure” Peter replied, “Didn’t even know it was there.”

For whatever reason, that finally broke the dam and Harry was soon sobbing hysterically as the trauma of the last two days caught up with him. Peter whimpered and moved closer to Harry could cling to him as he sobbed.

_Mom. Dead. Mom. Dead. Murdered. Murdered. Murdered. Someone killed her. Shot in the head. Shot in the head and he’d found her and he just wanted to forget, God he just wanted to forget._

Peter just held him until they were both sleep. Harry awoke a few hours later, still in the middle of the night, and looked as Peter slept with a pained expression on his face but Harry’s hands still in his own. “I love you” Harry whispered quietly again as he brushed Peter’s unruly curls off of his forehead, knowing that killing for Peter could never have been a mistake.

Nature began to call half an hour or so later and Harry just so didn’t want to leave his little brother’s side or venture out of the safety and familiarity of his bedroom but he also didn’t really want Peter to wake up to a pee-stained bed so he figured he should go. Sighing heavily and ignoring the fact it still physically hurt to move, Harry slowly made his way to the bathroom and relieved himself. As he was zipping up, he turned around and saw Harley standing in the doorway behind him.

Harry was shocked by the state he was in.

Harley had been doing a lot better with his eating lately but just one look at his youngest brother’s face told Harry that the boy had likely not eaten a bite for going on three days now, his cheek bones were already poking through again. The boy was trembling as Harry turned to face him and he just wanted to swaddle and protect his youngest brother in the same way that he had done with Peter. There was no one else now. He had to be the one to protect them from now on.

It was then that he noticed the big bruise under Harley’s right eye and Harry felt his blood got cold and his chest rise up with anger. Even today. Even _today_ when their mother had just been murdered, Norman hadn’t been able to stop himself from physically hurting them. Harry immediately felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. If he’d been around and not shut himself away for two days, Norman would have been able to take his anger out on him instead of poor Harley who didn’t deserve it.

Harry had killed a man and felt glad about it, if anyone in the house deserved to be beaten up, it was him.

“Sorry!” Harley said quickly, flinching back when Harry approached him, “I didn’t k-know you were in h-here sorry!”

“Harley, it’s-“

“Don’t come any closer!” Harley yelled as Harry took another step towards him, “I’m sorry, please just leave me alone. Don’t hurt me, please.”

Harry paused. Harley had only ever spoken to their father like that.

“Harley, I would never hurt you-“

“But you did!” Harley cried, “Yesterday, you yelled at me when I was sitting on the steps and you told me I was being stupid and crybaby because I still wanted to believe that mama was coming home so I said she was and you punched me!”

Harry stopped in his track. It felt like his stomach had just dropped out from his body. He hit Harley? He hit his little brother…..he….he’d never do that, would he? No. Harry knew he could get angry sometimes but he’d never hurt Harley not ever. But here his younger brother was telling him he’d done just that and there was some hazy memory playing in the back of Harry’s mind of him punching a crying Harley to the ground and then running upstairs, which he guessed explained why he’d been shut up there for two days. He wanted to say sorry and promise Harley that would never hurt him again but by the time he was able to get this thoughts together, Harley was gone. Sighing and knowing there was nothing he could do until morning, Harry returned to bed and cuddled Peter extra close to him.

*

_Wednesday 3 rd June 2009, Osborne Manor, Long Island, New York._

“No, I’m not eating that!”

Harley shoved the cheese sandwich that May had just placed down in front of him and turned away from her. He felt bad that he was making her more tired and sad than she already looked but he was absolutely determined he wasn’t eating. The only person who could ever get him to eat was his mama and she was dead now so what was the point? She’d meant to take him out to get new clothes because he’d done good and eaten but now she was gone and he didn’t want to eat anything ever again.

“Harley, please, honey” May all but begged him as she sat down next to him, “It’s been three days baby and you haven’t eaten a thing. Please, I’m worried about you.”

“Not eating” Harley said as he crossed his arms, “Don’t want it. Don’t wanna eat ever again.”

“You need to” May told him, “Harley, you-“

“I’M NOT EATING” Harley shouted before picking up the plate and throwing it across the room, smashing it and waking up baby Abigail who was sleeping in the next room. May sighed and gave Harley a slightly annoyed look as she left his side to go and check on her. Feeling bad almost immediately, Harley sighed and moved to the other side of the room to clean up the mess he’d made. He cut his hand on a bit of the broken plate but managed to sweep it up and then throw it in the bin. It was then that Harley heard the voice of his father coming from the front door, with Mr. Beck.

“We need to get down to the hospital” Beck was saying as the two men put on coats and headed out, “They still need you to perform a formal identification, as long as you’re comfortable with that. I’m sure we could call her cousin from-“

“No, it’s fine, I’ll do it” Norman sighed. He picked up his briefcase and Harley felt sick because even though he was scared of his Dad, that didn’t mean he wanted him to leave! Mom had left and never come back and he didn’t want the same to happen to his Dad even if he was mean sometimes.

“NO, WAIT!” Harley shouted, attracting the attention of both men who turned around and looked at him with confusion as he raced towards them, “Please don’t leave, please don’t go, what if you never come back?!”

Harley flung himself at his father’s heel and wrapped his arms around it but Norman quickly pulled his leg back and pushed him away.

“Harley, stop this” the man snarled, “You’re embarrassing yourself. I’m going to the hospital to view your mother’s body; I don’t need you making a fool of yourself like this.”

“Your seeing mama?!” Harley squeaked, “Can I come with you? Can I come and see her, please? I never got to say goodbye to her I just wanna say goodbye to her and tell her that I love her and that I’m gonna miss her and-“

A harsh slap to the face sent Harley halfway across the room. He clutched his hand to his cheek and looked up at his father through tear-soaked eyes.

“You silly boy” Norman snapped, “Your mother was shot three times in the head, do you think for a second they’re going to let her ten-year old son see her in that condition? Now stop being a needy, selfish little brat. This is hard enough for all of us without you making this about yourself as usual, Harley.”

“I’m sorry” Harley muttered from the floor, his cheek still burning from the harsh contact.

“And don’t think I don’t see that cheese sandwich you’re hiding” his Dad went on, “I thought your mother’s death might have stopped you from being a greedy little pig but I guess I was wrong on that score as well.”

“No, I-I-“

“We don’t have time for this” Norman snapped, “Now, try and not get yourself in any trouble before I get back. Jesus Christ.”

And with that, Harley watched as Norman and Mr. Beck left through the front door and piled into Mr. Beck’s car before driving away. Despite the fact that even though his Dad had just been super mean to him again and hit him, Harley still felt sick and scared as he watched them drive off. He just wanted his Dad to come home later on. He didn’t want to be an orphan.

He couldn’t bring himself to get up off the floor and it wasn’t until he felt a cold hand reach down and take his that he got up. It was Peter. Harley’s second older brother lead him into the kitchen and sat him down on one of the stools around the kitchen island before reaching down into the freezer.

“Not eating” Harley repeated stubbornly.

“These are frozen peas for your face” Peter said with a kind smile that always made Harley feel lighter and happier whenever he saw it. He laughed a little as Peter pressed the pack of frozen peas over where he’d been hit and sighed as he took a seat next to him, “Though I am worried that you’re not eating again.”

“Don’t wanna” Harley said with a shrug.

“You need to” Peter replied.

“No I don’t” Harley said, “If I don’t eat I’ll die and then I can be with mama again.”

Peter’s eyes flew wide open with shock and he dropped the bag of peas before pulling Harley into a near bone crushing hug.

“What?” Harley asked.

“Please don’t say stuff like that ever, ever, ever” Peter cried, “Promise me Harley, I need you not say things like that, it’s scary and you don’t mean it.”

 _But I do though_ Harley thought to himself but he didn’t say it to avoid upsetting Peter more because upsetting Peter was the worst thing in the world. All Harley wanted to do was be close to his Mama again.

“I love you, Harley. I love you so much”

*

Peter didn’t let Harley out of his sight for most of the rest of the day. They sat down on the sofa together and Peter held Harley’s hands as they both stared at the TV without really watching it. Harley was a bit confused. All he’d said was he wanted to see his mama again and now Peter was acting all weird and jumpy with him, but he guessed he should count himself lucky. At least he’d not managed to annoy Peter like he’d clearly annoyed Harry and his Dad. Who still wasn’t back yet. Harley was getting nervous. They should have been back by now.

“What’re you thinking about?” Peter asked as they gave up watching the television.

“Selena Gomez is quite pretty” Harley shrugged, “And about Mama, I guess, I didn’t meant to upset you when I said about wanting to see her again before.”

“You scared me” Peter replied, “Made me think you were going to kill yourself or something”

“I, err-“ Harley paused. He hadn’t really thought of it that way. All he’d wanted to do was be close to Mama again, he didn’t mean to scare Peter about that. He knew what suicide was, he wasn’t an idiot, Harley hadn’t really meant-had he? He couldn’t figure it out in his own head all he knew was that he needed to see his Mom.

“I’d be really sad if you weren’t around” Peter told him, “You’re literally like my favourite person as well as Harry, you’re so awesome Harley!”

“I’m not” Harley grumbled, “I’m not like you guys and Harry hates me anyways so-“

“Harry doesn’t hate you” Peter assured him, “He feels really bad about what he did and I know he wants to say sorry but he’s too ashamed of himself to say it. He found Mom’s body; he’s really, really struggling. You know he’d never normally hurt you, right?”

“Don’t blame him” Harley sighed, “I was being an annoying fat smelly brat like I always am, probably deserved to get hit.”

“That’s not true” Peter snapped, “You were upset and confused. Same as me. Same as everyone. You’re none of those things.”

“Yes I am” Harley said petulantly, “I should be the one who’s dead instead of Mom and then maybe you’d all be happy!”

Harley got up and stormed out of the living room and into the back garden. He liked to go and sit by the rocks at the lake when he was upset. It wasn’t that he was mad with Peter but he just wanted everyone to understand that he got it now. He was fat and ugly and annoying and it was OK if they all hated him because he hated himself even more. The only person that liked him was Peter but even that didn’t really count because Peter was the nicest person in the world and he liked everyone.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid” Harley said to himself as he angrily threw rocks into the lake behind the house.

“Peter said you’d be out here” Harry’s voice rang out from behind him. Harley gasped and turned as his eldest brother, swamped in one of Ben’s hoodies, gave him an awkward smile and came to sit down next to him on the rock Harley had climbed on to.

“I think I made him mad” Harley confessed.

“You didn’t” Harry assured him, “He’s just worried about you, we all are. You need to eat Harley; you were doing so well before.”

“Don’t wanna” Harley said grumpily before throwing another stone in the lake, “Why do you care anyway, you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you” Harry replied quickly, “I could never hate you. You’re my kid brother, I love you more than anything. And I’m so sorry for hitting you the other day, that was really not cool of me. You were just upset and confused.”

“I know she’s dead” Harley snapped, “I know she’s dead and that she’s never gonna come back and cuddle me or make me feel good about myself again, I know that now, so you don’t gotta tell me that-“

“I know” Harry said calmly as he reached across and put Harley’s smaller hand in his own, “I know, and I should have been more understanding when you were freaking out. We gotta look our for one another now, right? We especially gotta look out for Peter, you understand? Cos he’s not good at looking out for himself.”

Harley nodded. He knew that Peter always put other people before himself and sometimes that was nice because it meant Harley always had someone to go to if he was upset but he also knew that sometimes it meant Peter didn’t talk about what was upsetting him. Like one day when Harley was super little and Harry wanted to play soccer outside when it was raining so Peter went with him even though he was sick and half-way through he collapsed and had to go to hospital for three days and have his food put into his body in a tube. And then when Harry and Harley were allowed to see him again the first thing Peter said was that he was sorry for ruining the game.

Peter was the nicest person in the world.

“OK” Harley agreed, “We’ll look after Peter together.”

“Good!” Harry said brightly before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bag of sweets which he dumped on to Harley’s lap. Harley’s first instinct was to throw them into the lake as well but Harry reached across and stopped him, “You can’t help me look out for Pete if you’re not eating. Just a few gummy bears, please?”

Harley looked at his big brother in the eyes and realized Harry was serious about this, and that he was right. If he didn’t eat, they wouldn’t be able to make sure Peter was alright and so, he slowly opened the bag and ate four gummy bears in one go. Harry laughed as Harley’s face lit up as he remembered how much he liked them and before he knew it the whole bag was gone and he was laughing as well.

They jumped down off of the rock and held hands as they walked back into the living room where they found Peter, with a genuine smile on his face, bouncing baby Abbie up and down on his knee as she sucked her thumb.

He was singing The Wheels On The Bus to her.

Peter looked up and smiled as he saw his two brothers in the doorway and they came to join him on the floor, all ready to join in for another round of the song. Harry didn’t let go of Harley’s hand for the rest of the evening and when all three brothers fell asleep curled around one another later, for the first time since he’d last seen his Mom, Harley felt something close to peace.

*

_Friday 5 th June 2009, Osborn Manor, Long Island, New York._

Peter was fine. Really. He was. Of course, he wasn’t happy and this had been the worst week of his life but he was fine as long as everyone else around him was fine and in order for them to be fine, he had to be so they wouldn’t spend time worrying about him. There had been a lot going on over the last few days and Peter was struggling to hold it all together, he’d only just come to terms with Skip’s death before Harry had been brought back into the house screaming hysterically on Monday morning. Peter knew then that this wasn’t about him. That he had to look after Harry who was really disturbed by finding their Mom, and he had to look after Harley who had stopped eating again because of it and he especially had to look after Abbie because she didn’t have a Mom anymore and she was still a tiny baby. All of that seemed way more important than anything Peter was feeling.

The only person who seemed to disagree with that was Quentin Beck who had three times throughout the week tried to get Peter to speak to him about what Skip had done to him, but no way was Peter going to talk about _that_ with _him_. He didn’t dislike many people but Quentin Beck was definitely one of them.

By Friday, they’d all got into a strange new routine in the house. Peter’s Dad and Beck were out of the house for most of the days because the police and the hospital and the media kept wanting to talk to Norman about his wife’s death and he didn’t have any other choice but to talk back. Ben had also been gone for most of the week, May wasn’t really saying why, and she was around and trying to do her best but Peter knew she was really heartbroken by what had happened so she wasn’t at her best either. So, it was down to Peter.

He would make sure that he was up before anyone else and would give Abbie her milk in the morning. He actually quite liked that. He’d pick her up from her crib which he had moved into Harry’s room so they could all be together the night Harry and Harley finally made up and take her downstairs onto the back-door patio where they’d watch the sun come up together. He would tell her about all the different birds and the plants and how the sun and moon worked and he knew she wasn’t _really_ listening but she always looked at him when he talked and he liked to pretend that meant she understood. Neither Harry nor Harley really cared about nature that much so Peter liked that he had someone to talk to about it, even if she was a three-month-old baby. Peter had started taking pictures of the sunrise. He thought they were actually quite good.

Once everyone else was up, Peter would pass Abbie off to May and then spend his mornings with his brothers. He’d make sure Harley ate his breakfast and then go for a walk or something with Harry if he could tell his big brother was getting lost in his head again. They always held hands as well. Peter knew it wouldn’t last once they eventually went back to school and Harry became one of the cool kids again but he liked it for now and he could tell it was helping his brothers as well. Even the fact they all kind of knew they were a bit too big to all be sharing a bed anymore didn’t really bother them, they just felt like they needed to be as close to one another as they could be all the time.

That Friday had been a rough day. Abbie had been cranky; Harry was back to pushing people away and Harley had had a massive panic attack when Beck had been a little too heavy handed in trying to get him to eat some pasta. It had only been made worse when Peter’s dad arrived home and announced that Mary’s body was ready to be released and he would be planning her funeral. Peter had never been to a funeral before. He’d seen them in movies and on TV but he’d never been to a real one. The news of the day was made even worse when Beck announced to the boys that their grandparents would becoming to stay for the rest of the summer to help out.

They were two more people that Peter didn’t like.

May and Peter’s father had an argument that afternoon. Peter couldn’t hear exactly what it had been about, though he seemed to have been able to pick up a lot more of what was being said than either of his brothers, which was strange as they had all been sitting in Harry’s bedroom trying to listen. The shouting died down eventually and Peter was relieved when he heard May come upstairs, meaning their Dad hadn’t fired her or anything. Unusually for her, though, May did not come and check in on them before they went to sleep.

Unhappy with this, Peter left Harry and Harley watching a video with Abbie placed in-between them and went to find her. He found her crying to herself on the edge of the bed in her and Ben’s guest room.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry-“ she said, “I meant to come and give you all a kiss but I just needed a few minutes.”

“It’s OK” Peter said as he sat down next to her and handed her a tissue, “Mom was your best friend, you’re allowed to be upset as well.”

“Yeah, I know” May said tearfully, “My best friend for twenty years. Your Mom was one of a kind, Peter, I wouldn’t be who I am today without her.”

“And who you are is pretty awesome!” Peter told her. May laughed and pulled him in for a hug which felt more like he was holding her than she was holding him. They stayed like that for a few seconds before May broke it off and kissed Peter on the forehead.

“Such a sweet, caring boy” she said as she brushed his bangs out of his eyes, “You have no idea how much you remind me of her. Always thinking of others before she thought of herself. She was so proud of you, Peter. Not only are you kind but you’re so brave and so strong as well.”

Peter wanted to tell her she was wrong. Wanted to say that he was nothing like his Mom and that he was not strong or brave. He didn’t feel strong or brave. He was still having nightmares about what Skip did to him every night and he had all these weird bruises from his seizures that he couldn’t remember getting and if it wasn’t for the fact he knew he needed to be on good form to look after everyone, he knew he wouldn’t have been sleeping at all.

“Now, go to bed, I’ll come in and-“

“You’re OK” Peter assured her quickly, “They’re all already a sleep and you just gave me a kiss here, so….maybe you should go to bed as well, you look tired.”

“I am” May admitted as she gave him another quick hug, “I’m sorry about this week, Peter, but Ben will be back soon and I’m gonna be there for you guys more than I have been. It’s just been a lot to take in.”

“I understand” Peter said with a nod, he gave her the best smile he could manage before kissing her on the cheek and leaving her room, satisfied that he’d made her feel better. He then headed downstairs for a glass of water because he knew that Harley always got really thirsty when he woke up in the middle of the night and it was easier if he had a glass waiting for him on the bedside table.

He didn’t expect to run into his father sitting alone in the kitchen when he entered. His Dad was nursing a glass of whiskey as Peter slowly turned on the lights, grabbed a glass and quickly made his way to the sink, regretting his decision to come back downstairs every second he could feel his father’s icy glare on him.

“Peter” Norman said after a few seconds of silence.

“Yeah, Dad” Peter replied from the sink, not turning to look at him.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” Norman asked.

“Harley wanted a glass of water” Peter replied, “Came down to get him one.”

“Couldn’t he get it himself?” Norman replied snappily. Peter rolled his eyes.

“He’s already asleep” he sighed, “But sometimes when he wakes up from nightmares, he’s really thirsty and having a glass of water right next to him means he can have it and go back to sleep quicker.”

“Very considerate of you” Norman noted. Peter shrugged. He finished filling up the glass and turned to leave the kitchen before Norman’s voice brought him to a halt yet again, “I suppose it’s important for me to remind you that your mother loved you” he said.

Peter nodded.

“I know” he replied, “She loved all of us.”

_Unlike you._

Norman smirked and finished his whiskey before turning his attentions away from Peter and back to his laptop. Peter shot his father a pitying look as it dawned on him how utterly useless the man was and that he and his brothers were really on their own now. It was easier for Peter to be mad with Norman than it was for his brothers. Norman never treated Peter all that badly but that just meant Peter could see him for what he was, he wasn’t always trying to avoid being hit or made fun of by him. Peter didn’t know why he was his Dad’s favourite and he didn’t want to know, and the more he thought about how his Dad told him to stay quiet about Skip, the angrier he got.

Sighing, Peter left his Dad to whatever he was doing and returned to Harry’s bedroom where he found two of his three siblings were already fast asleep. Harley was snoring quietly whilst Abbie was out for the count in Harry’s arms, the teenager himself barely hanging on to consciousness by the time Peter returned. He nevertheless smiled when Peter took Abbie out of his arms once he’d placed the glass of water in reaching distance for Harley.

“Hey baby girl” Peter whispered as he gently carried Abbie over to her crib, “It’s bed time, you’re such a good girl for falling asleep when I wasn’t here cos we needed to get better at that, didn’t we? Big Brother Pete’s so proud of you. OK, I’m gonna put you down now and I know you’re gonna be a good girl and sleep all night like usual. Such a good sleeper and then I’m gonna get you up and we’re gonna have our special Abbie and Peter time, I think I’ll tell you all about swallows tomorrow morning. Night, night Abbie. Petey loves you.”

Peter lovingly placed his baby sister down and felt proud as she didn’t make a sound or stir even a little bit at the slight jostling it took. He was grateful that she was such a good sleeper because a baby crying all night long was the last thing anyone needed.

“She doesn’t like it when you’re not here” Harry whispered through a yawn as Peter walked back over to the bed, “I know it’s weird to say cos she’s just a baby but I can tell. She likes it better when you’re around. Everyone likes it better when you’re around.”

Peter smiled as he watched sleep finally overcome his elder brother. It was nearing midnight now and as usual, Peter was far too wired up to even consider sleeping. Normally, he’d lay in between his brothers and pretend but they were both already fast asleep without him and he knew he had some time to himself now.

Slowly, Peter left Harry’s bedroom and crept towards his parents. Norman had taken to sleeping on the sofa bed in the study since Monday and that meant Peter’s parents bedroom was now empty but still full of his mother’s stuff. Slowly opening and then closing the door behind him, Peter breathed in his mother’s lingering aroma. Like soft strawberries. Her hair always smelt like that.

There was a half-packed suitcase on the bed and still personal items of Mary’s left in positions around the room that were expecting her to come back. Her hairdryer was still plugged in, her dressing gown half-hung on the back of the door, the bed unmade and the walk-in closet still very much open. Cautiously, Peter entered the closet and sat himself down in the middle of it with his knees pulled up to his chest.

He grabbed one of his mother’s shirts and sniffed it. Yep, still smelt like she did. Like she could walk back through the door at any second.

The tears came not long after that.

Peter had not cried much since he found out his mother had been killed. He’d shed a few tears when he first found out but nothing since yet for whatever reason, as he sat in his mother’s closet, sniffing a shirt she didn’t even like but still nonetheless smelt like her, the tears came unabashed and unashamed.

He held the fabric up to his face and cried into it. Peter wished there was some way he could bottle up his mother’s scent and somehow keep it with him for the rest of his life. Because he knew her smell would fade away in time. That this was a temporary hit. That he was unbelievably selfish for keeping this little ritual all to himself and not sharing it with his brothers or May.

But sometimes, even Peter needed something that was just for him and maybe this was it, however it came with a price because as he had always done, Peter Osborne cried alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so no big cliffhanger this time (though we do have THAT Mary revelation) so I'll be more interested than ever to hear your thoughts in the comments. I was blown away by the response to the last chapter with got more than double the comments that any other installment had received yet. I'm not anticipating a response quite as large this time due to the lack of a shock cliffhanger but I would still appreciate any feedback you can muster! Our little community is growing and despite the gap between updates increasing, I am and always will be utterly dedicated to this story. Even if it takes forever.
> 
> Much love and stay safe,  
> Jamie  
> xxxx


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